


out of your head and into your body

by sapphicish



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/F, but what i DO know is that tegan price is annalise keating's rock, i dont know what's going on in htgawm, they're in love ladies...they're in love, very vaguely set in a future where less murder happens i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 22:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicish/pseuds/sapphicish
Summary: "We're not girlfriends.”“Aren't we? I bring you breakfast, I bring you dinner, I give you massages, I sleep over, I use your toothbrush—““What?”“I'mkidding.Jesus, Annalise, I'm not a monster.”





	out of your head and into your body

**Author's Note:**

> hate writing smut never thought i'd write smut really never thought i'd publish smut no matter how explicit (it's not) but it's 2019 and this is the first tegan/annalise fic on ao3 and i'm getting out of my fear-of-writing-sex mind and into my tegan-and-annalise-fuck mind...thank you
> 
> also i got really sick of re-reading this over and over again looking for mistakes because i don't actually like it so lol if you find any errors just like...forget it and focus on how truly beautiful and breathtaking amirah vann is ✌️

“Oh, God,” Tegan whispers, stares at the ceiling.

“Breathe,” Annalise says gently over her, and Tegan remembers – oh. Right. She sucks in a breath, rising from the last exhale she'd taken however long ago, lungs aching.

Everything is. Aching, and twisting, and she wants –

– she wants –

She feels Annalise shake with quiet laughter above her, and even here, even now in the dark with nothing but the street lights outside to illuminate the room around them, even now with fingers against her, inside her, stroking _everywhere_ all at once until she sees stars bursting in the black behind closed eyelids, she finds enough time, enough energy spared to reach out and swat her on the arm for it.

Annalise is braver here in the moment than she'd expected at the start, but maybe it had been stupid to expect anything else. She knew all about Annalise's sexuality, after all. Had thought about it long and hard, in the dark, in the quiet at night. Not _like that,_ because she tried not to push that boundary with coworkers especially when she didn't know how they felt about her in turn, and she'd managed, up until – 

Well, up until very recently. But deep hot kisses shared in the dark and hands fumbling up shirts and thighs like they were high schoolers instead of two grown women who had definitely done this sort of thing before was nothing compared to this.

They'd never had time, before – not to go quite this far, not to spend quite this long just _feeling,_ so yeah, it's kind of new.

Tegan feels a spasm run through her arm, trembling, when her fingers knot extra tight in the sheets and she finds herself arching, gasping from the discomfort and then again, pitched lower, a moan from the back of her throat when Annalise's fingers thrust just – like – that, like she's had experience, like she _knows,_ and Tegan knows she knows but...damn, it's still _so much,_ and a tiny part of her brain keeps saying she's going to wake up any minute and it'll all be another dream.

But her dreams have never been this precise, never filled with this much feeling, never this real. In her dreams, Annalise's form was always vague, shapeless, a blur above her. Clothed, unclothed, who knew? Her fingers explored, but never so _deep,_ never so heavy and quick and certain. In her dreams, Tegan could never see her face, and just as she reached that point of no return, she'd wake up longing and upset, unable to bear even the thought of reaching down to finish the job. And then they'd gotten together, and the dreams had just – stopped.

Being fucked by Annalise Keating puts a lot of things into perspective. No confusion. No dreams. Just them, here, now.

Here, she can see Annalise's face; here, Annalise is naked; here, the room is light enough to see everything; here, she can hear it, feel it, and she's already had one _very_ real, nerve-wracking, muscle-clenching orgasm already, so she knows.

It's no dream.

It's a lot better.

The shadows stretch and yawn against the ceiling and she focuses on that and for a minute she feels like she's going to suffocate, here in all this safe warmth that threatens to turn overwhelming again and again beneath the blankets, feels like – honestly, like she might pass out, and wouldn't _that_ be embarrassing. Maybe Annalise notices, because suddenly she's easing off, slowing her fingers to a point where Tegan fears she might stop but she doesn't, it's just _slower,_ lazier, deeper, and a flush of mortification rises to her cheeks when she hears herself whimper, sharp and sudden and high.

At least Annalise doesn't laugh this time. She leans down and kisses Tegan instead, licking into her half-open mouth, biting down on her lip until she feels it begin to swell, and that's the catalyst, that's what she needs –

Tegan isn't loud, usually, likes her partners to be the ones making all the noise, but then she's usually on top too and this is different, so she lets it come, a long moan rolling out from deep inside of her, again and again and _again,_ her toes curling and her back arching and her fingers clawing at the bed underneath her.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she hears herself say again, like from a very great distance, but she knows somehow that it must be loud, and the name that follows equally so. Annalise. Annalise. Annalise.

And then there's nothing.

When she comes to, Annalise is still there over her, fingers combing loosely through her hair, slow and steady and waiting.

“I think you blacked out,” Annalise says, voice brimming over with amusement.

Tegan closes her eyes. “Oh, just—shut up and kiss me.”

Annalise acquiesces, ridding them both of that almost painful distance so she can press down against Tegan, kissing her long and gentle and wet, the hot ache spreading warmly from the pit of her stomach to the rest of her, to her head and to her toes until it's less burning desire and more...more.

Just more.

After, when she's come down from the shaky, all-over pleasure that feels like it's going to set her on fire, she tugs Annalise close and slots a thigh between her legs, silently delighting in the breathy sigh it earns her.

“You're really, _really_ fucking good, Annalise Keating,” she says breathlessly, feels goosebumps rising on her skin when a hand drifts down across her chest, light like feathers, circling her navel and then going higher again to slide a thumb over the peak of a nipple, hard from the cold or the heat or the thrill that makes her spine vibrate, or maybe all three.

Annalise snorts, kisses her soft again, less tongue and playful scraping teeth but just as good despite it. “You're not so bad yourself.”

“Did you learn all of that from Eve?”

It comes out...bad. Wrong. Worse, it _comes out,_ which isn't what she wants to happen, definitely not here and now, and she can't be blamed for her curiosity but she can definitely be blamed for insisting it be sated _right now._

Annalise looks at her, and keeps looking, and keeps looking. “Not all of it,” she says evenly, “but I don't think that's really any of your business.”

Tegan swallows thickly, then she pulls Annalise closer, down, harder until she can feel her slick and flushed against her thigh, and it's a better apology than anything that could come out of her mouth would possibly make, ever, so she does it again and again, until Annalise falls into the motion and her mouth drops open around Tegan's shoulder, hot breaths fanning against her chilled skin.

“Come on, baby,” Tegan murmurs, grinning against Annalise's jaw. “You ready for me? You _feel_ ready.”

“Mhmm,” Annalise mumbles back, weak and thready.

“Ah ah. What was that?”

Annalise groans softly, fingers tightening like a silent warning around Tegan's hip – but only for a moment, and then her hand loosens and so does the rest of her, particularly when Tegan tips her knee up against her, rubbing until she hears that pretty gasp again. “Yeah. I'm ready.”

“I know. There you go.” Tegan rewards her with a kiss but the way it makes her feel makes her wonder who exactly the one being rewarded is, not that she has much time to think about it in the following moments; when she's turning them around, pushing the other woman down flat to the mattress, when she's above Annalise and watching her from hooded eyes to that gorgeous mouth, half-open to allow for all that soft panting.

Tegan feels herself grinning fondly at the sight, at the _sound,_ wider and wider, and she probably looks like an _idiot_ at this point, so rather than staying put and watching Annalise quietly shift and squirm beneath her, she crawls down under the blankets and buries her mouth between trembling thighs instead.

It's clearly, she decides when she hears the first of Annalise's throaty moans, the _right_ decision.

When Tegan's finished licking deep and hard into her, when her jaw is sore and when legs snap shut around her head like a bear trap and fingers draw tight, tight, _tighter_ in her hair, Tegan thinks she could stay like that forever, really truly for the rest of her goddamn life, but then Annalise pushes her away with a long, heavy groan, and even though it would be fair game to give her another when Tegan herself had been given two, she knows it's done. So she presses brief kisses to Annalise's stomach, her chest, her lips, and then goes downstairs to get them both water. When she comes back, she crawls up next to Annalise against the headboard, surrounded by heavy blankets and pillows, enjoying the way she's being watched.

“I didn't mean to come off all 'jealous girlfriend', back there,” she says, watching the undulation of Annalise's throat when she drinks, long and greedy, because she can't stop _looking_ at Annalise like this, taking in all the little details, and she doesn't think she'd want to stop even if she could, “I was just interested. In you, and what you two had. That's it. I just want to make sure that's clear.”

Annalise tips her head to look at her, and it's just when the itch under Tegan's skin has grown to be a little bit too much that she reaches over, palm up, fingers splayed open. The itch goes, and Tegan takes the offering, curls her fingers around and holds on.

“I know,” Annalise says, puts the glass down on the nightstand, “and you didn't come off that way. We're not girlfriends.”

Tegan raises an eyebrow, leans up on an elbow. “Aren't we? I bring you breakfast, I bring you dinner, I give you massages, I sleep over, I use your toothbrush—“

“What?”

“I'm _kidding._ Jesus, Annalise, I'm not a monster.”

Annalise whacks her with a pillow and yeah, maybe that's deserved. “Fine. I didn't think you were jealous. I get it. You want to know all about the first woman I slept with.”

“Not everything. I just wanted to know one thing.”

“What's that?”

“How good is her tongue game?”

Annalise hits her again, and Tegan laughs until her ribs hurt.

“You're an ass,” she's told plainly afterwards, when they're both settling down and curling up against each other.

“I know. But I've seen her. Photos. I've looked her up. I've done my research. She looks like she was _good._ ”

Annalise nods, a little distractedly. “Yeah,” she says quietly, looks at the ceiling instead of at Tegan. “She was really good.”

Tegan gets the feeling they're not exactly on the same page anymore. It doesn't bother her, but it's clearly bothering Annalise, so she grabs the woman's face and pulls her in for a kiss, scratching lightly over her belly until a funny little tremor runs through her body.

“Oh my God,” Tegan says when she pulls away, which doesn't take long upon her revelation, “you're ticklish. Okay, Keating, we're gonna have some fun.”

“I'm gonna hit you again and it's not gonna be with a pillow this time.”

Tegan snickers, running her fingers down the same path but only once before she slings a leg over Annalise's hip and presses closer, gratified to feel the same thing done by the woman beside her. If she ever told anyone that Annalise was a cuddler, they'd never believe her.

“You tired, baby? I'll bring some coffee and bagels tomorrow and we can go over the new case.”

She feels sooner than she sees Annalise nod against her shoulder, because her eyes are beginning to get heavy. “Sounds good.”

Tegan drifts, then, feeling a hand run along the side of her face, into her hair, down again to cup a shoulder and curl around an arm and then a hip and Annalise must _really_ like touching her, which is a thought that brings a cozy kind of warmth, something that washes over her in gentle waves, and –

It's good. It's all good. The closest to perfection that she's reached in a long while, and she'll be damned if she's not going to take it and hold on with both hands, so she allows her eyes to fall shut, and she sleeps.


End file.
